


Tonight you belong to me

by palamig



Series: in the wee small hours [4]
Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: F/M, Handholding, dancing around feelings, literally just meaningless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18595273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palamig/pseuds/palamig
Summary: Tick.Tock.Tohru fixes her eyes at the clock hung over the TV, taking note of each hour, each minute, each second that passed by.At exactly 11:30pm, the door slides open. She turns to the direction of the door almost immediately, heart throbbing wildly in her chest. She digs her fingers into her skin and in her head she practices the things she was going to say.“You’re still awake,” says the person she hasn’t been waiting for since dinner time.





	Tonight you belong to me

_Tick._

_Tock._

Tohru fixes her eyes at the clock hung over the TV, taking note of each hour, each minute, each second that passed by.

At exactly 11:30pm, the door slides open. She turns to the direction of the door almost immediately, heart throbbing wildly in her chest. She digs her fingers into her skin and in her head she practices the things she was going to say.  

“You’re still awake,” says the person she hasn’t been waiting for since dinner time.

Under the moonlight and the darkness of this dimly-lit living room, Kyo looks different. He was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday night when he told her he’d be spending the night at shishou’s: a v-neck shirt and a pair of cargo pants she’s seen him wear at least five times in the last two weeks—and yet he looked different.

“Kyo-kun, you’re back,” she says calmly, although her heart is climbing up her throat, eyes flittering from him to everywhere else once in a while because she finds that it’s difficult to look at him properly without feeling like everything inside her was going to melt. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Kyo answers smoothly. He haphazardly deposits his things on the floor, and drops down tiredly beside her. He leans backwards, closes his eyes and lets down a long, tired sigh. The smell of him tickles her lungs. He smelled good. _Like_ _Kyo_.  

“People recovering from colds shouldn’t be staying up late.” He quips, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, eyeing her with a strange glazed look.

It was only the two of them at the living room. Yuki had retired early, saying he needed to rest for some student council meeting at the break of dawn the next day. Shigure’s in his study, doing whatever mysterious things he does when he’s alone.

It was only her and Kyo, and the silence of this house at 11:30 in the evening. Alone. Together.

Kyo has gotten taller over the summer. She remembers who he used to be back in the cold autumn and winter days last year—a skinny, lanky boy with a lot of pent-up feelings. But when the seasons changed, so did he.

Even though he still wore the same things he used to wear back when she barely knew him—he was different now. Older. Bulkier. And yet much more gentle. Much closer to her than she expected him to be. Kyo was starting to take the shape of someone who’s seeing every single part of her, including the parts she hides, and the parts she wasn’t aware actually existed. Someone who has gently imprinting himself so intimately into her life, that if he left, the empty spaces he will leave behind might be too large, too hollow to fill up.

He was looking at her with a soft, heavy gaze that seemed to mean so many things she’s unsure of.

_He’s so close._

“Sleepy?” Kyo asks fondly. His husky voice was closer now, like he was only inches away from her ear.  

 _He’s so close_ , her heart shudders in her chest.

“A little.”

She hears a shuffling of clothes. Kyo is leaning toward her, staring at her with his attentive, curious scarlet eyes. He reaches out and suddenly warm fingers start ghosting over her cheek, tracing a single line over her skin. Tender.  Careful. Tohru realizes her heart is a little shy of combusting completely inside her.

“What happened here?” His voice was soft, like a whisper under a blanket. His thumb traces another line over a part of her cheek.

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She’s too busy trying not to notice the way he’s touching her cheek, “It’s a paper cut.”

“What?” He chuckles lightly. He withdraws his hand, rests it back on the table. She felt the absence of his touch almost immediately, “Literally how does _anyone_ get a paper cut on their cheek? Did you fight with Kagura again or something?”

“There’s nothing to fight with her about.” She mumbles into the table. Her fingers are playing with the hem of her skirt. Restless, hesitating, unsure.

“Oh really?” His voice was playful and teasing. When she turns toward him, he was smiling at her with that strange smile of his. A smile he only saves for intimate midnights, for the wee, small hours of the day—maybe, she thinks selfishly, just maybe, for her.

She realizes she missed his fingers on her cheek.

“Really.”

They sit together in silence—her and this person she’s finding herself feeling a bit strangely for—listening to the cicadas chirping from the forest and the _tick tock_ -ing of the grandfather clock hung above them. There’s a distance between them, only an inch long, and yet still so great she wants to close it. To be as close to Kyo as she can ever be.

She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. Maybe it’s the feelings she suddenly is keenly aware of manifesting altogether. She lifts her already sweaty hand. And with as much courage as the solace of this intimate hour affords her, she inches her fingers _slowly_ , _carefully,_ toward his.

Until the tip of her pinky graze the tip of his.

She feels him stiffen. She knows that Kyo is always careful with her when it comes to physical contact. He wasn’t as overly affectionate to her  like Momiji or Kisa were. And on the rare times he did touch her, they weren’t as gallant or controlled, as plainly platonic as Yuki’s felt. Kyo is a shy boy, uncomfortable with touching someone else so intimately as this. A person who needs someone to reach for him before he returns the touch, the attention, the feeling.

But when he does return the touch and the attention, it’s always tenfold. Like he’s got a lot of love hiding deep within him, unlocked by the simple fact that she reached out to him first.

And slowly, she feels Kyo’s large, calloused fingers curl carefully over hers – whether instinctively or as a conscious response, she doesn’t know. Her heart is too busy trying not to combust to decipher the intentions behind his actions.  

“Are you going to bed?” He asks so softly, as if he was sharing a secret that only the two of them know.

Her heart is lodged in her throat. She could swear her hand is shaking but Kyo wasn’t moving away. They weren’t looking at each other, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The unspoken feelings. The intertwined fingers on the table.

“Don’t feel like it.” Her voice is careful, afraid that she might be wearing too much of her heart on her sleeve. Her chest is blossoming into a garden of very, very nice and warm feelings. She doesn’t want to leave. She wants to stay like this, holding Kyo’s hand, and him holding hers, for as long as she can. “What about you?”

There was a moment of silence. Enough time for a thumb to graze tenderly over her palm.   

“Don’t feel like it either.”

_Tick._

_Tock._

She stops keeping track of how many seconds, minutes, hours pass.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [tonight you belong to me by eddie vedder and cat power](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUhnQzjXHHY)


End file.
